


gold rush

by purpleglasseswrites



Series: Leaflets in the Sun [1]
Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Evermore - Freeform, F/M, Folklore, Inspired by Music, Vassa as Lucien's twin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-10 22:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28384548
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purpleglasseswrites/pseuds/purpleglasseswrites
Summary: She'd been young, stubborn and unbothered by the world. He'd spent centuries bearing a legacy that was slowly eating away his soul. They'd both been lonely, scarred and longing for a warmth neither of them had ever experienced.If Helion could go back, he'd tell her to run as fast as she could. A High Lord destined to murder his own daughter was no better than one obsessed with military campaigns. She would have been better off with Beron.A story detailing the first meeting between Helion and The Lady of Autumn.
Relationships: Helion/The Lady of the Autumn Court (ACoTaR)
Series: Leaflets in the Sun [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2078880
Comments: 6
Kudos: 10





	gold rush

_i. gold rush_

_I can't dare to dream about you anymore_

_ At dinner parties I won't call you out on your contrarian shit  
And the coastal town we never found will never see a love as pure as it _  
_'Cause it fades into the gray of my day-old tea_  
_'Cause it will never be_

_gold rush - Taylor Swift_

* * *

Helion Spell-Cleaver wondered why philosophers never spoke about this kind of misery. 

He'd known the Equinox ball would be a nightmare the moment the invitation had landed on his desk, but that had been an understatement. He took great pride in his diplomacy and negotiating skills, yet his self-control was slipping more and more with each inquiry about the Day Court he received. Nobody cared about Prythian as a whole or wished to debate strengthening their maritime boundaries. All they wanted was information they could exploit in this never-ending power game between the courts.

Beron Vanserra himself seemed too endorsed in internal affairs to acknowledge the other High Lords. From the looks of it, their host had finally decided to secure his legacy. His advisors had made a great effort to organize the grandest party Autumn had ever seen, but Helion could see straight through the gold-plated leaves dangling from the ceiling and cinnamon flavoured cakes. No amount of warm lights could disguise the true nature of that awful male. Ruthlessness and a preference for violence may have advanced his military career, but had failed to attract marriage proposals.

With a sight, Helion glanced at the High Lord of Autumn and the female he was currently parading around the ballroom. Her grimace told him everything he needed to know about Beron's mockery of a valse. She must have been young, Helion thought. No female used to court customs would dare scowl at the eldest High Lord of Prythian. 

"Same old story," Morpheus muttered next to him. Helion was inclined to agree, but the distressed expression his best friend wore had him pause. 

"This is a bloody shithole," Dennis whined, sniffling at his wine before tentatively bringing it to his lips. "Even their wine tastes like shit."

"I get the sense you know that for a fact," Morpheus said, his eyes roaming to the double doors of the ballroom ever so slightly. 

Helion chuckled as the vintner emptied his drink into the nearest flower arrangement, flipping off Morpheus in the process. "I always wondered where the inspiration for that raspberry wine came from." 

Dennis blinked, the corners of his mouth twisting downwards. "Low blow, Helion." He shook his head, the pout on his face making the High Lord laugh again. 

The fiddles stopped playing momentarily, and Helion watched the female jerk her hand out of Beron's grasp and walk away without a second glance. Good. 

"Thank the Mother," Dennis cried. "That song made me want to crawl my eyes out."

Morpheus hummed in agreement, but his mind was not in the ballroom with them. Helion sighted, clasping his friend's shoulder. "You can go home, Morph. I'll die of boredom before anything remotely exciting happens tonight." 

Morpheus shook his head, his eyes darting over Helion's shoulder, past Dennis's disappointed glance and deep into the Day Court delegation. "He's watching your every move."

Helion resisted the urge to turn around and snarl at Spyro. Instead, he squeezed his best friend's shoulder again, trying not to think of the High Fae elder standing just a few feet away. "As he always is. The change of scenery isn't going to make that snake shed any time soon. Go be with Hypatia. I have Dennis to keep me company and away from the Council's scrutiny."

The music resumed with a terrible screech. Dennis cursed, before turning away to the buffet table, muttering to himself. Morpheus grimaced, leaning in so that only Helion may hear him over the loud fiddles. "That one is in this for himself first. You—our lands—our people—come second to his greed."

Helion snorted, waving Morpheus off and towards the exit of the ballroom. "We are all selfish in the end, Morph. Dennis is a good male, be him merchant first and adviser second. Now go home to your mate and be selfish yourself." 

Helion knew he'd won the moment his friend's muscles relaxed under his touch. Morpheus cast one last look at the delegation behind them and shook his head. "Don't let him get you too drunk, or we won't hear the end of it for months."

Helion sighted, the memories of Nostrus's coronation all too fresh in his mind. "I'd say years, given how last time turned out." 

Morpheus groaned as they made their way through the crowd gathered on the right side of the dance floor. "Please don't let this be another Summer. I can't handle any more meetings about the offence we bring to our beloved elders."

"I'm afraid I can't relate," Helion grinned. "I block out the sound of Spyro's voice the instant he starts talking. Makes for some quality reading time." 

Morpheus snorted, shaking his head. "Somebody has to do damage control."

"I trust your expertise on that."

"And I trust I won't have to put those skills into action first thing in the morning."

The double doors creaked open as they approached. There were two Lesser Faeries stationed at each side, and Helion didn't miss the way their hands shook as he and Morpheus passed by. 

The Forest House was an intricate set of buildings and foyers, all linked by twisting staircases that seemed to descend deep into the woods below. As he and Morpheus stepped outside, Helion thought it was a grotesquely complicated rendition of what he had in mind for the Saffron.

The suspended courtyard preceding the ballroom was empty, the everlasting Autumn unforgivingly cold. Helion suppressed a shiver. If it wasn't for the fallen leaves and impossibly tall trees, he could have sworn he'd walked straight into a desert night.

"I'll see you in the morning," Morpheus said, bowing his head, relief shining in his dark eyes. Helion smiled before returning the gesture and watched as his most trusted advisor disappeared into the tunnels hidden beneath the Forest House.

His shoulders sagged as he found himself alone on the steps of the ballroom. It was on cold nights like these that his appreciation for the arid climate of Alexandria resurfaced. The artificial desert had been the work of many High Lords before him, in an attempt to mirror their lost kingdom on the Continent. He'd yet to decide if he wished to maintain the tradition in Heliopolis. If it could prevent days as cold as this night, maybe it was a good investment.

He wondered if following Morpheus back into the Day Court would stir any diplomatic issues. Surely, Beron wouldn't notice his absence, with his sudden interest in courting females, and Spyro would be glad to know Helion wouldn't embarrass their court at another gathering. He could review the city plans in the warmth of his office, try to simplify the spellwork needed to recreate the desert—

"I don't suppose you'll take your entire delegation with you when you leave."

Helion stilled. In his five centuries of existence, he could not recall a time anyone had managed to take him by surprise in such a manner. His father had made sure of that.

Slowly, he turned towards the stairwell leading deep into the forest that gave name to Autumn's political front. There was a female sitting on a fallen tree trunk, her dress carelessly brushing against the leaves lying at her feet. No wonder he hadn't noticed her. It was as if she was one with the woods, auburn hair intertwined with the crowns rising high above the palace. 

She looked at him expectedly, eyebrows raised and arms folded over her chest, gaze steadily holding his. He'd seen her moments before, glaring at Beron with the same intensity she bore now.

"Are you asking me to break up the party Vanssera threw in _your_ honour?"

The female shrugged, tilting her head to the side as if to get a glimpse of the ballroom behind him. "It seems to me you were kin on doing just that before I asked you anything, High Lord."

"Perhaps I was, lady, but I don't see how one early night could make up for that diplomatic overhead that would follow."

"Perhaps," she drawled, "That is a point for the Neoplatonistic school to elaborate on. I'd be interested to read what Hypatia of Alexandria has to say about the court intrigues we dwell in every day."

Helion stepped towards her, glad for the great descent that had his blood flowing. "Too bad Hypatia has no interest in those sort of things. Vanities of the ruling bloodlines, as she calls them."

"It must be nice," the female said. "To only observe and not be forced to intervene. To live the life you choose, not the one you were born into."

He was almost in front of her now, close enough to see the tears shining in her russet eyes. "Are you two engaged?"

"Cauldron no," she snorted, her hands gripping her arms tighter. "I'm only one of the many females deemed worthy of the High Lord's attention. And yet—"

She broke off, and Helion considered apologizing for disturbing her quiet. 

"And yet?" He wondered if he pressed on because he didn't want to return to the party, or because a part of him already knew how that sentence would end.

"And yet I have no choice but to go along with his advances, accept his touch and listen to his gloating."

 _Choice._ Helion knew what hid behind that word. A family ambition, more sacred than any desire a child's heart may have. He hadn't chosen to become High Lord or inherit the damned legacy his line had to carry. But a marriage proposal was not a blood title. He hadn't had a choice, but perhaps this female still had. If only she'd realise it as well.

"May I?" Helion asked, gesturing to the fallen trunk. She nodded, rubbing her arms. He wondered if she was as cold as he was. Surely not, given how well she seemed to fit with the scenery. _The perfect bride of Autumn_ , he thought grimly.

He lowered himself on the far edge of the old oak, not wanting to disturb the battle that seemed to rage within her. Yet, if she wanted him gone, she would have told him so.

Helion frowned at the mud soaking the hem of her dress. "Are you purposely trying to ruin your dress?" 

The female chuckled, grabbing fistfuls of the gold fabric as if to crumble it further. "Perhaps they won't let me back in if I do. Perhaps Beron would forget about me. Find another female he prefers to torment."

"And would your family notice if you did not return to the party?"

He regretted the question as soon as it left his lips. The way her whole body tensed, the sudden movement of her head as she closed her eyes, the slight tremble of her hands—There was a time when he'd had the same reactions at the mare mention of his father's name. 

She straightened her back, fingers releasing the fabric of her dress. She smiled at him, a smile bright enough to fool anyone who hadn't had centuries to perfect it themselves "Yes. They would."

The smile had been her way of dismissing him. She made to pick up her dress, and Helion should have let her go. For years to come, he would wonder why he hadn't. In that first moment, when they'd been strangers to each other, it would have been so easy to watch her leave. But somehow, even then, he couldn't let her go.

"How many others are out there?" Her hands froze on her dress. 

"At least two dozens," she let out, her upper lip trembling as she turned to face him. "He toured the territory, looking for what, only The Mother knows. But he has decided I am his favourite. And my parents have decided their daughter should not settle for a lesser title than Lady of Autumn." She hissed the last part, and Helion could have sworn her eyes were burning.

He shook his head. Morpheus had been as right as always. It was a story they'd heard too many times before, in all seven courts alike. "Looking for his mate. And If I were to guess, he hasn't found her. So he settled for the strongest bloodline he could find instead."

The female let out a strangled laugh, tears running freely down her cheeks. "Such a shame, that he's had _centuries_ to look before he settled. I haven't even had a year." She sighed, and Helion knew he'd been right. She probably was as young as she looked, perhaps a little over twenty years. 

"Are you planning on doing the same?" Her question had him tense all over, the dying cries of his sister raging in his ears. 

"No," he let out, urging his voice to remain steady. "I've taken a more—liberal path."

 _So that I may never have to slaughter my own child_ , was what he did not tell her. The female nodded, and Helion clenched his hands around the wood, forcing splinters to break the skin. He wouldn't let his mind spiral into those memories. A shiver ran down his spine as he thought of what his father would say about his choice of celibacy, and he gripped the trunk tighter.

"Are you cold, High Lord?" There was a teasing tone to her voice, and for some reason he couldn't comprehend, it calmed his mind. "Are nights in Alexandria not as cold and unforgiving?"

"If you know as much about my lands as you let on, lady, you are already aware of how artificial climate works."

"You channel the sun to maintain heat. But come sundown, there is nothing to channel from anymore."

Helion hummed, suddenly very aware of just how much his power relied on daylight.

"Can you channel something else instead? A fire?" 

He wondered if she was fucking with him. If Beron toyed with her, why shouldn't she toy with another High Lord just to spite him? Yet, the way she was looking at him, russet eyes curious, eyebrows slightly raised as if she genuinely expected an answer out of him—"I am not sure," he let out, at last, wondering if she would laugh in his face.

The female shrugged, before turning towards the pile of leaves lying at their feet. And set it on fire.

Helion snorted, shaking his head. "Now she's trying to set the Forest House on fire. Careful, or Beron's hunger for power may ignite as well."

"Not if his balls go up in flames first." Helion threw his head back, laughter shaking through him. Cauldron help them if this female allied herself with Beron Vanserra. Or help Beron, if she ever turned against him.

"So can you?" She asked, gesturing to the still burning leaves. 

What harm would it do, if he indulged her? He'd spent centuries trying to find ways around his weaknesses. Fire stemmed from the sun, but it could never fuel the constant need inside him. He focused o the flames, willing the heat towards himself, a process he'd practised all his life, only with a different source.

The fire didn't waver, and the female cried out, the disappointment radiating in her voice. "I never understood why your people valued protective magic until now."

Helion smiled, enjoying the way she pursed her lips at the fire far too much. As if she was daring it to vanish and allow him to absorb its warmth. "I could conceal you If you wanted. Let Beron turn the Forest House upside down looking for you. All while you breath down his neck."

The female slowly turned towards him, the light of the fire gleaming in her eyes. "And would you hide with me, High Lord?"

He held her gaze, a smile forming on his lips. "What makes you so sure I wish to hide, lady?"

She shrugged as if her question had meant nothing at all. "I see no other reason why you would have lingered around me for so long. Who are you hiding from, High Lord?"

"Helion," he breathed. "I'd say we've shared enough to drop the titles, wouldn't you?"

"It seems we have. My name is Seva," her voice gave a slight tremor as she spoke, uncertainty creeping in as their eyes met. Helion chuckled as he bowed his head in acknowledgement. It was the first time her confidence had quivered since he'd first seen her.

It seemed to spike again a moment later, in union with the dance of the wavering flames. "You didn't answer my question."

He sighed, relishing in the fact that she'd steered the flames towards him, the chill of the night slowly dissolving from his bones. "I may have exaggerated my endurance at the Summer solstice earlier this year. It turns out elders have a hard time forgetting such embarrassing endeavours."

Seva laughed, the light in her eyes genuine, and Helion was glad he could alienate her misery ever so slightly. "It must have been an exciting celebration compared to this tedious hoax."

He shook his head, glad there were no fountains to be seen around the Forest House. "It wasn't. I suppose I had the stupid idea that drinking would stir the boredom out of me. Too bad everyone else was too stiff to share my opinion."

She giggled again, and Helion debated whether sharing how exactly that particular night had ended for him would make him seem like an even bigger fool. "Doñana must be so beautiful. I couldn't imagine getting bored in a place like that. I'd walk around aimlessly all night."

Helion raised an eyebrow. Just how much did this female know about the way of other courts? He hadn't even known the place existed until the coronation that year. Not that he'd cared enough to research.

"It's just a coastal town, truly," he shrugged, noting the way the staircases of the palace abruptly stopped at the edge of a cliff. Any fool drunk enough wouldn't notice the gap in the trees until it was too late. "Another shape of the pretty fortresses you are used to. Just as rotten as it is beautiful."

She snorted, and Helion though she'd send the flames blazing towards the wooden porch in front of the ballroom. "Easy for you to dismiss them when you've seen all those places with your own eyes. All I know is my father's estate and the images my mind conjures from the books I read."

"I could take you there if you wanted," He didn't know if it was guilt for his ignorance or the fact that he liked talking to her that made him say it. 

She started, russet eyes widening, as she glanced from him to the double doors of the ballroom. Later, he'd spend decades wondering what would have happened if those damned doors didn't burst open right at that moment. The two Lesser Faeries stepped outside, wooden hands gesturing wildly towards the still-burning fire. They looked terrified. 

"We'll put it out," Helion called out to them, just as Seva's hands flickered quickly over the flames and Helion shivered as the heat died down. Her eyes were frightened as she looked back at the faeries, but they'd already retreated inside. 

"Don't worry," Helion said, "I'll charm them into believing you were just trying to stop me. I have a reputation for ruining parties after all." He smiled at her reassuringly, but she did not seem convinced. "What's a little fire compared to passing out in a fountain?"

She laughed at that, but there was still an edge to her voice, one Helion was aware he could not soothe. "Perhaps I'll get to show you around Doñana another time?" He could practically see Morpheus shaking his head, but right then and there, he did not care.

Seva smiled at him as she rose to her feet. "Perhaps I'll take you up on that." He watched her walk towards the ballroom, dress trailing after her in fragments of gold and moisty leaves. He'd been wrong. She did not fit in one bit.

**Author's Note:**

> Day Court inspiration - Hellenistic Egypt (The Ptolemaic Kingdom)


End file.
